


sex is like Chinese food

by areyoumarriedriver



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:37:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoumarriedriver/pseuds/areyoumarriedriver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There you are –took you long enough, you know. I was getting really impatient. And really hungry. River. River. I brought you biscuits.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Two fics that I posted a while ago, but they go together, so I'm putting them into one here.

**_sex is like Chinese food_ **

 

She woke with a gasping breath, her hearts racing as she struggled with the darkness for a moment. Over the years in Stormcage, she’d grown accustomed to the constant presence of at least some light. So upon her release she’d naturally sought to remove all reminders of prison from her new home.  She painted every wall a different colour, stuffed too much furniture into too-small rooms simply because she could, and she slept in the absolute dark.

Of course, a side-effect of this was that she often felt confused if she woke in the night. It took a moment for her brain to remind her where she was. “Time.” She mumbled the word sleepily and her alarm clock by her bed lit up at the request. Eleven minutes after three – she groaned, rolling over and only then did the noise register. The constant electronic sound of her door buzzer. She sighed, putting her feet on the floor and standing as she stumbled over to pick up her gun from the dresser before she made her way to her front door.

She didn’t need the gun. The closer she got the louder the buzzer became but she could hear him calling her name incessantly over the noise of it. Throwing the weapon on the hall table, she turned a lamp on and huffed in irritation before yanking the door open.

“River! River! Rive-  _oh_!” He was leaning on her buzzer, a ridiculous grin on his face as he dragged the syllables of her name out again and again. His bow-tie was crooked and his face flushed, and he had a plate in his one of his hands while the other was waving his sonic screwdriver about. “There you are –took you long enough, you know. I was getting  _really_  impatient. And  _really_  hungry. River. River. I brought you biscuits.”

He shoved the plate under her face before standing and  _finally_  stopping the sound of her buzzer and she sighed softly, taking the plate from his hands before he dropped it. He walked through her door to stand next to her, his pace uneven and weaving slightly. “Doctor, what are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.”

“I  _know_! Isn’t it romantic? I brought you exactly eleven jammie dodgers – I thought you’d like the symbolism you know – and look!  _Look_!” He waved his hands over the plate, narrowly missing smacking her in the face with his sonic as he looked at her expectantly. “Look what it  _says_!”

She glanced down at the plate in her hands, on which the biscuits were laid out carefully in a heart shaped pattern. Or what she assumed was  _supposed_  to be a heart shaped pattern – one side had slightly more biscuits than the other, resulting in a rather wobbly looking heart. “It’s a heart.” She spoke finally and he clapped in excitement.

“Yes!” He glanced down, finally noticing the sonic in his hand and he frowned. “What was I doing with that? Oh I  _remember_. Sonicing and entering. Not the same as breaking and entering at all. Wonder why I forgot what I was doing? Oh, yes, I know! I got distracted by the jammie dodgers. Because – River, River are you even listening?” He’d tucked his sonic away as he spoke and removed his tweed coat, looking around until he spotted the coat tree. He tossed his coat in that general direction and laid a hand heavily on her shoulder, shaking her slightly. The biscuits slid across the plate precariously.

“I’m certainly  _trying_  to listen.” She muttered before moving out of range and putting the plate down next to her gun on the hall table. She closed the door and jumped when she turned around because he was following  _very_  closely behind her. “Sweetie, when are we for you?”

“Oh I don’t know, I’m  _sick_  of that diary. I don’t care.” He pouted a bit before brightening. “Aren’t you going to eat them? The jammie dodgers? I brought exactly eleven you know-”

“Yes, you said that. Are you  _drunk_? That’s not even possible is it?” She frowned up at him and he leaned in closer, sliding one finger down to the tip of her nose and grinning.

“You’re so  _clever_  River. I  _like_  that, I really do. You know what I like?” He stopped speaking; clearly expecting a response and she crossed her arms and leaned against her front door with a sigh.

“What?” She indulged him and he clapped before pressing in closer to her.

“I like that you’re so clever I never have to explain things to you. I think things and it’s just like you  _get_  them, five seconds –  _no!_   _Two_ seconds after I do. I like that, I do. It’s like you’re magic. Must be the hair. River,” he looked at her seriously, one hand coming up and taking a curl of her hair between his thumb and forefinger and twisting it gently, “River is your hair  _magical_?”

She laughed out loud at that, and took his hand in hers. “You  _are_  drunk. How did that even happen? How did you even  _get_  here?”

“S’just earth alcohol that I process quickly. Alien drinks are something else entirely. The Ponds and I went to a space bar. Rory couldn’t stop laughing at the term – but no matter. They’re tucked into their bunk beds and I decided to fly here. I can’t quite recall why. Or even how I knew you were here. Maybe Sexy knew? She does read my mind you know.” River nodded as she picked up the plate of biscuits from the table in one hand and led him back down her hall and into her bedroom with the other.  She turned her bedside lamp on with a touch and placed the plate beside it, while he sat down heavily on the bed. He only remained upright for about thirty seconds before he fell back with a laugh.

“You won’t get sick will you? I swear Doctor – I will hurt you if you get sick.”

“You don’t love me enough to take care of me? Wait – silly question. Of course you do. You love me, River Song. _Shhhh_. Spoilers.” He giggled faintly at that and she sighed, running a hand through her hair before she bent down to unlace and pull his shoes off. Once she did that she pushed him until he was laid down on top of the covers, his hands held up in front of him as he studied them. “My fingers are _ridiculously_ long.”

She almost choked at that, sliding onto the bed next to him with a stifled giggle. “I quite like them.”

“Because they’re long? I suppose, physically speaking, that would be a plus.” He was whispering now before rolling over to face her and tucking his hand beneath his head. The other hand traced her jaw line and she swallowed heavily. He’d just as much as admitted that this was pretty damn early in their timeline for him. “You’re quite pretty.” He spoke suddenly and she smiled in response.

“Am I?”

“Yes.  I like your eyes. And nose. Your whole face actually, is the kind of face I think I could look at forever, and never grow tired of it.” His voice was a whisper again and she turned her head to see him better, ignoring the obvious irony of what he was saying. Clearly he was early on enough that he didn’t  _know_. Not yet.

“What in the galaxy did you drink, Doctor?”

“Oh I don’t know. It was green and blue. Pretty colours. Has your hair always been like this River?” His hand has travelled up into her hair and she doesn’t really mind – in fact she was finding this whole evening entirely enlightening. She often wondered what he thought of her this early in his timeline.

“Like what?” She asked and he smiled, tangling his fingers in the curls.

“Wild, untameable. Magnificently curly. Such a reflection of you, really. It’s so  _soft_.” He was watching her carefully as he spoke and she grinned in response. She enjoyed this – he was talking to her in a way he hadn’t done, not in a long, long time. For  _her_  anyway.

“Have you never touched it before?”

“No. Well a bit. Once. Accidentally, sort of. You kissed me and I almost put my hand like this,” he demonstrated and she nodded slowly, remembering it well. “but I was afraid that wasn’t the right thing to do with my hands. Silly hands. I always  _want_ to touch it though. Just to see how it feels.”

“You can touch it whenever you like, you know. And?” She cleared her throat, and looked at him expectantly. “How does it feel?”

“Addictive.” He responded promptly. “I think I hurt you that day. I didn’t mean to. I’ve been thinking about it.”

“You’re crossing your own timeline, you realize Doctor. That’s already happened for me.” She pointed out gently and rolled fully on to her side so that they were stretched out and facing each other.

“I know. It’s why I came here.  Why must we adhere to this stupid back-to-front rule? That’s  _ridiculous_. I have a time machine. I should be able to come whenever I please, and I please to come now. To this you. I like this you. You know everything and follow my rules even when I ask you not to – so loyal, Dr. Song.” His hand was stroking her hair gently now and she sighed softly.

“That’s not a  _rule_ , really sweetie. Just how I experienced it. So far.” She was flattered in a way – that he wanted  _this_  version of her. He inched closer, scooting his hips across the bed with an innocent smile. “What are you doing?”

“I liked the kissing. It was nice.” She could feel his breath across her cheek and she nodded mutely. “And it shouldn’t be – our last kiss shouldn’t be like that.”

“It was your first.” She pointed out and he huffed in frustration, his fingers tightening in her curls.

“We can share them. Two first kisses; two last kisses.” She met his gaze for a moment, and her hearts pounded in her chest. She hated talking about the lasts. She just never wanted it to end. Ever. “River, can I – may I kiss you?” He looked nervous, pale and she wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t be shaking if his hand wasn’t already in her hair, the other one tucked beneath him.

“You  _never_  need to ask.” She smiled, and watched the tension bleed out of his frame. He leaned forward and she let him lead the way. It was a gentle brush of his lips against hers and her eyes drifted closed as her hand moved up to stroke the side of his neck softly. When his hand slid out of her hair and down over her shoulder and side to grip her hip, his mouth became less hesitant, less unsure. Her mouth opened beneath his on a sigh and then she could taste the strange mixture of whatever he’d been drinking earlier, and the sweetness of biscuits. She smiled against his mouth as he pulled her toward him until she was flush against him, their bodies aligned from shoulder to hip.

When he finally moved his mouth away, she was laughing breathlessly. “Why are you  _laughing_? That’s  _not_  a good reaction to a man’s kiss, River.” His voice was petulant and she smiled at him, her hand still on his neck and she could feel the steady rhythm of his pulse beneath her fingertips.

“I’m just happy you’re here. Happy you came. I’m just really  _very_  happy right now.” His pout disappeared at her words and he stared at her seriously, his face inches from her own.

“It’s very frustrating you know.” He spoke after a moment and she blinked in surprise, before arching an inquisitive brow at him. “This. Us.  _You_.” He exhaled and his hand slid up her back until it rested on the nape of her neck, underneath her hair. “I don’t know everything about you yet, I shouldn’t trust you but I do. Have from the first time I met you, River. You’re mysterious and exciting and a puzzle to be solved. You’re beautiful and loyal and have this  _absolute_  faith and trust in me. Our whole lives are a giant catch-22, how could I ever resist you? I tried you know. I did try. A bit – not very hard actually, come to think of it.”

She watched him as he spoke, how his gaze slipped across her faces like a caress. His thumb was stroking the skin of her neck while his fingertips flirted with the curls in her hair. “Shh.” She finally hushed him, leaning forward and pressing a swift kiss against his mouth. “I don’t want you to regret coming here in the morning.”

He kissed her back for a moment, his mouth soft against hers while his fingers curled around the curve of her neck. His hands never stayed still – never ever in all the times she’d been with him. His fingers traced over her like she was the surface of a tactile map and he had to learn the lay of the land.  It was something he would just keep on doing, their whole lives. She’d never asked why. “I won’t regret the coming here. Maybe the saying too much bit, but I always do around you. Someday – you’ll say too much to me. I think I’ll enjoy it.” His voice was a whisper against her cheek, and she could smell strawberries and alcohol - it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“You talk too much.” She breathed the words out, and his head lifted until his mouth met hers again. He kissed her fiercely then, with a strength that she knew shocked him.  It didn’t shock her a bit - his hand curled around her shoulder and his fingers bit into the skin there, but it was a welcome sting. The kind that shot straight through her, to her very core. He drew her bottom lip in and bit down gently and she moaned into his open mouth. He struggled for a moment as he shifted up onto his elbows until his hand was free to trace the length of her body, while the other gripped her shoulder tightly.

His long fingers brushed down the length of her, skating lightly over the swell of her breasts and downward over her ribs.  He paused by the indent of her waist, his hand curling over her there, his palm flat above her hip – just a thin layer of silk separating her skin from his. He pulled back then to stare down at her, his eyes bright and his face flushed. “Do you ever wonder River, if we did things the normal way, at the  _same_  time – what would have happened?” His voice was hushed, almost reverent and she smiled up at him.

“Sometimes. Sometimes I think about it just to convince myself that this – how we are doing it – is better. I wouldn’t give it up for the world.” Her voice was equally low and he smiled brightly in response, his face lighting up.

“I think so too. I promised you I wouldn’t change it. I’m glad you made me promise.” She felt her hearts seize in her chest, beating a wild tattoo against her ribs as she dragged a smile from somewhere within her soul. Despite how clear he sounded now, he was  _drunk_. She shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be touching him in ways she shouldn’t yet, shouldn’t be listening to him talk to her in ways he would never forgive himself for.

“Spoilers, sweetie.” She shushed him, placing a finger over his mouth gently. He shook his head, a smile stretching his lips under her touch.

“Sorry.” He apologised before he slid his hands around her, pulling her into his side as he rolled onto his back. “Probably wasn’t the brightest idea for me to come here – but it’s easier to say all these things to you because you know almost everything. I like it when you know everything. It’s sort of like falling in love in retrograde isn’t it? I’m learning to love this version of you while you constantly shift under my feet – like quicksand.  It’s actually just complicated enough that I’ll never be bored – that’s good right? Do you think I can keep coming back here? To this you?”

She ran a hand over his chest, feeling his hearts beat beneath her palm as she tucked her head into his shoulder, and listened to the rumble of his voice. She did love to just listen to him talk, sometimes. A very good thing, since he liked to listen to himself talk too. “They’re your rules to break, my love.” She smiled against his the cotton of his dress shirt and felt remarkably content.

“I will. I think I  _will_. You’ll see me again and again before the end, River Song. Just you watch. I’ll bring you biscuits every time.” He sounded stubborn, like a pouting child and she giggled against him softly.

“As what – a payment plan? Biscuits for sex – is that the going exchange rate now?”  She spoke tongue-in-cheek and he huffed underneath her, his hands pressing firmly into her back as he attempted to pull her closer.

“They weren’t for  _that_! They were just – jammie dodgers! It’s the most romantic biscuit around – look they’ve even got little hearts on them! How is that  _not_  romantic?” His voice was small as he argued with her and she laughed, lifting her head to look up at him briefly.

“I know you didn’t come here just for that. Though I can’t promise not to have my way with you should you show up with a plate full of love biscuits and  _not_  drunk.” Her fingers curled around the buttons of his shirt and he glanced down at her with wide eyes.

“You’d do that just for jammie dodgers?” His voice was unsure, and she detected a hint of arousal in there- enough to make her want to roll her eyes in exasperation. Of course he was the  _one_  man in the universe who would find that a turn on.

“I’m just  _that_ easy.” She teased him, and he let out a little guffaw of disbelief that she felt earned rewarding. She leaned up, pressing a kiss to his mouth, and he immediately pulled her even closer, his mouth opening over hers. She whinged breathlessly as he slipped his tongue into her mouth to lightly stroke against her own. She closed her eyes, getting lost in the moment until he pulled back once more, leaving her to drop her forehead against his shoulder as she breathed in and out. When her head felt clearer, she looked up to find him studying her intently. “Of course, this all depends on who’s  _holding_  the plate of biscuits.”

“Just me then?” He grinned smugly and she turned her head and pressed two quick kisses over each of his hearts. He pulled her even closer, his arms impossibly tight around her, but she found the sensation eerily calming. Her heart rates slowed down and she breathed in the scent of him deeply.  This was what had been missing from this place. It wasn’t home without him.

“Just you then, my love.”


	2. watch, learn, and don't eat my cookie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I was promised biscuits.” She pointed out, folding her arms across her chest and staring at him. He opened his mouth once, and then again before holding up a hand and dashing back into the TARDIS behind him.

**_watch, learn, and don’t eat my cookie_ **

 

It was only one in the morning, this time. She heard the TARDIS materialize noise coming from what sounded like her patio,  and she winced as she heard splintering plastic. She didn’t need all those chairs anyway, but still if the man would just learn to  _park_  properly.

She was out of bed before she even heard the knock, padding in bare feet down her hall until she turned left into her dining room, and saw him, a dark shape at the glass door that was instantly recognizable. She slid the door open, and stood with one hand on her hip and one brow arched. “Hello, sweetie.”

“Hello River. Aren’t you going to invite me in?” His voice was quiet, and all together too serious for her liking. Broody Doctor was her least favourite kind. No point in dwelling on the past, they both had far too much of it behind them. She looked at him intently for a moment, studying his face and his eyes to ascertain just when they were.

“When are we for you?” She answered his question with her own and he looked startled.

“It’s after Demon’s Run for me.” He looked at her face, his gaze tracing across with a mixture of hope, wonder and sadness. She sighed internally, no wonder he was broody then.

“I was promised biscuits.” She pointed out, folding her arms across her chest and staring at him. He opened his mouth once, and then again before holding up a hand and dashing back into the TARDIS behind him. She leaned against the open doorframe and waited patiently, and he popped back out a few moments later, a package in his hands.

“Jammie Dodgers for the lady.” He held them out and she stepped back with a sigh, letting him follow her into the house.

“I think I like you better drunk, Doctor. I got declarations and heart-shaped presentations then.” She took the biscuit package from him anyway, leading him through to the kitchen where she filled the kettle and began making tea.

“Sorry – I know I said I would-” He began spluttering out a sincere apology and she held up a hand to stop him.

“I was just teasing you, my love. Clearly  _not_  the time for it. You obviously didn’t just pop round because you missed me either, so come on. Out with it. You’re here for a reason, no point in waiting for you to meander your way through several pointless speeches.” She finished making the tea as she spoke, before turning back to him and leaving it to steep.

“Oi! My speeches are not  _pointless_.” He huffed in irritation, his hands on his hips as he glared at her, offended.

“Not  _all_  of them no, but we both know what you get like when you’re worrying a problem.” She stepped in closer to him and adjusted his bowtie. “So what is it?”

He sighed, all of the irritation bleeding out of him as he looked at her. “I can’t find you.”

“I’m right here, sweetie.” She pointed out obviously, despite knowing what he  _meant_  by that. Just after Demon’s Run meant he wasn’t looking for  _her_. He was searching for Melody.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He chastised her softly, and she nodded, looking up into his face. He looked weary. Weary and over-wrought and she placed a hand on the side of his face, feeling the scratch of stubble against her palm.

“You know I can’t tell you anything. I can’t tell you where to find her.” He looked at her, startled. She knew talking about herself in the third person was odd, but it was always how it had felt for her whenever the subject came up. Melody Pond. It was her, of course, but it always felt like someone else at the same time. Melody was a child that Amy and Rory loved, had hopes and dreams for; she was a wish unfulfilled and hope for the future. None of that was  _her_.

“Her? But it’s you.” He frowned and she sighed, her hand sliding down to his shoulder before trailing down over his arm. The tweed only felt slightly less abrasive under her touch.

“Yes, of course it’s me. But it’s also not me at all. It was me. Once. A long, long time ago.” She was explaining this terribly but he looked at her with dawning comprehension.

“You were never Melody, were you River?” She looked away, not answering which was apparently an answer in and of itself. “You’ve always been River. I – I don’t ever find you, do I?” He sounded so distressed by the thought that she reached down, interlacing his fingers with hers as she studied him once more with a saddened expression.

“Of course you do, honey. Of course you find me. You always do.”

“But not the you I’m looking for, do I? I don’t ever get to bring that baby back to Rory and Amy. I don’t ever get to give them the child that I took from them!” His voice rose, and his eyes were red-rimmed as he stared at her. She could read the pain written across every inch of his face and she sighed. They never discussed this after Demon’s Run. She’d always thought it was because he just knew – just _understood_  without her having to explain anything. Apparently not. Apparently she just hadn’t explained it to him yet. She swallowed heavily.

“It wasn’t your fault.” She pointed out gently and he pulled his hand from hers with a hollow laugh.

“This was exactly me. Remember?” She gripped his shoulders, turning him to face her when he tried to turn away.

“That was – sweetie, that was something you needed to hear. But surely you know, you  _know_ , it was never meant with maliciousness. Doctor, I had to do that. I had to show you what you refused to see for yourself. But never, not once in my  _entire_ life, have I ever,  _ever_ blamed you for how it all turned out. Look at me, Doctor. Look at me.” He lifted his head until she could meet his eyes and the amount of aching hurt within them nearly broke her hearts. She moved closer until she was pressed against him tightly, as if her body itself could be a bandage to cover a wound she couldn’t see. Her vision swam for a moment with unshed tears and she slid both hands up to cup his face, as she stared at him. “I haven’t regretted a single moment of my life. Not a single  _moment_ , Doctor. The good, the bad, the ugly – all of that made me who I am. And who I am is  _yours_. Always. I wouldn’t change a bit of it, even if I could. I wouldn’t  _let_  you. This is my life and I chose to invest it where I saw fit. So it’s  _not_  your fault that you can’t go give Amy and Rory my childhood. It’s mine. Because I would never let you change one single  _thing_.” She felt a wetness on her face, knew she was crying and wished he didn’t have to see that, but she didn’t hide or try to wipe her tears away. She simply held his gaze and willed him to understand.

His hand rose between them, and brushed the tears away for her. “You don’t know – you don’t know what you could have if – they  _love_ you. So much.”

“And  _you_  don’t know what I would have to sacrifice. They love me  _now_ , Doctor. Not the way they planned, but that love is still there. But _this_ love might not be, if you changed it all.” She spoke in a hushed whisper and he looked at her, startled.

“River...”

“I’ve known you my whole life. My  _whole_  life, Doctor. I was taught to hate you and chose to love you and you don’t get to invalidate that choice. Please, I know you don’t – I know you’re not  _there_  yet, but please,  _please_  don’t ask me to change that. I can’t. And I’m sorry.” His hand was still against her cheek, his thumb brushed against her skin softly as she spoke. When she finished speaking, he wrapped both arms around her and pulled her into him, a tight embrace that crushed her against him as she buried her face into his neck.

“No, no River  _I’m_  sorry. I shouldn’t have – I shouldn’t have come here, not like this. Not for this. You shouldn’t have to explain. I shouldn’t have made you. Shouldn’t have needed to. I promised you...” He trailed off, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and she pulled back, looking up at him.

She knew what he was talking about – he’d let that slip last time. One day he would promise her not to change any of it. “Keep it then.” Her voice was a whisper and he pushed a hand through her curls, and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“You’re wrong, you know. I am absolutely, completely and totally  _there_  River Song. My River.” He smiled as he looked down at her. “I’ve loved you for a lot longer than I’d care to admit. I loved you before I even knew who you were, River. I loved you – your spoilers and your mystery. How well you know me – I love it all.”

She wasn’t sure if she rose or he lowered, but they were kissing suddenly, his mouth insistent over hers, and she sighed as his tongue reached out for hers gently. Everything else was forgotten as she felt his hands slide down her back until he could pull her against him, her body flush with his. She felt her hearts pounding, felt them hammering against her chest and she felt his too, a faint reverberation of her own. This kiss was something new, to both of them. It was desperate and frantic, tongues and teeth and an attempt to get close, closer than was even physically possible. Her hands shoved his jacket off of his shoulders and it landed with a soft thump on the floor. His hands were roaming her body too, sliding down her sides, over the swell of her hips, squeezing her bum, spanning her back until they buried themselves back in her hair again.

All the time they kept kissing, every kind of kiss imaginable. Deep passionate kisses. Playful nips at lips. Soft, gentle kisses. Long, slow kisses. They kissed like they had never done so before, and would never do again. They kissed like it was a new discovery, a hello and a goodbye, like this moment was endless. Her hands trembled as she unknotted his bowtie. Shoved his braces down and pulled his shirt out of his pants with a jerk. His own hands explored her further, slipping under the hem of her nightgown and dragging his fingertips up along her skin while she shivered.

He’d walked her backwards until she hit the counter, she was far too busy unbuttoning to notice and his shirt joined his jacket in a heap on the floor. He pulled her nightgown over her head swiftly, before leaning down again, pressing kisses along her neck, her clavicle, and her shoulders.  Her hand buried itself in his hair while the other one slid up his back and pulled him closer until her skin was pressed against his and she felt like could breathe easier because of it. His hands dropped to her hips and he lifted her with ease until she sat on the edge of the countertop, his hands trailing down her thighs as he stepped in between them and pressed kisses down her sternum.

She let go of him and his hand pressed her back until she was laid out on the countertop, looking up at him with a heated expression. His lips trailed along her until he was placing open mouthed kisses along her breasts and her hearts were beating so hard she thought she might pass out. Her hands found their way back into his hair and she gasped out loud at the feel of him hovering over her, lighting her nerve endings on fire with just his lips, teeth and tongue. “Doctor!”

He paused at her exclamation, laying his head on her heaving chest for a quiet moment as they both caught their breath. When he lifted his head, he placed one kiss over each of her hearts before lifting himself until he was bent over her. “I need you.” His whisper was rough and low, and she shuddered beneath him as her hands slid down to grip his shoulders.

“You  _have_  me, sweetie. Always.” He looked down into her eyes at that, and she could see lust warring with need, love struggling with grief at her words. It was exquisite and made her breath catch in her throat as she stared up at him in wonder.

“Always?” His voice was soft and wondering like a small child’s and she felt her hearts ache at the sound of it.

“A long, long time and forever after that. Before I was even born and even long after I d-” He kissed her brutally, cutting her words off, his tongue surrounding hers even as his hands pushed her knickers down quickly. She gasped, but the sound was lost in his mouth.  She pushed him back until she could sit up, her own hands joining his at the button of his trousers, a joint effort to undo them and shove everything down as she slid closer to the edge of the counter, her skin throbbing and aching for  _him_.

He stopped kissing her when he slid inside of her, one hand buried in her curls and pressing her face close to his while the other pushed her lower back forward, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his hips. She shifted against him, a breathy moan escaping her when he began moving. Her hands gripped his shoulders, and she whispered his name over and over again, like a prayer. His face was pressed against hers, and his fingers clenching around strands of her hair as he whispered half-sentences, promises and declarations against her skin.

They joined together at a frantic pace, and she couldn’t grasp the concept of fully formed thoughts – she just knew him and her and  _them_. His skin, his taste, the feel of him outside and inside of her, all of her skin on fire and all she wanted was  _more_. They rose and fell and she tasted salt and sweat and tears when she pulled him closer and kissed him. He crashed into her and gripped her so tightly when she felt herself fly apart – she was sure he was the only thing keeping her anchored. His bones pressed into her bones and kept her with him as he shook over her and buried his face into her neck.

They both stayed still for a moment, wrapped around each other as they waited for their breathing to calm. She felt his shoulders shake and she laughed with him, breathless and aching. “I didn’t mean to do that.” His voice was muffled and she laughed out loud, throwing her head back in delight. He pulled back, frowning down at her and she grinned up at him.

“Well if you’re that great when you  _don’t_  mean to, I can’t  _wait_  to see you put your mind to it, my love.” She slid off the counter and wrinkled her nose as she turned to survey the surface.

“Sorry about the... counter. And everything I said earlier – I didn’t-” This time she cut  _him_  off, turning in the circle of his arms on still shaky legs so she could press herself against him and kiss the daylights out of him.

“Shut up, you idiot.” She shook her head and pressed another quick kiss to his surprised mouth. “The counter can be cleaned, and never apologize for telling me the truth about how you feel. You should always feel like you can do that.” He pulled up his trousers, buttoning them and she lifted his shirt from the floor before he could, sliding it over her arms and buttoning it up haphazardly.

“That’s actually mine.” He pointed out and she arched a brow at him.

“So I can’t wear it?” She spoke in a playful tone and he nodded. “I can’t?”

“No! I mean yes! I mean it’s fine if you wear it but I can’t get dressed without it and it’s not like I can borrow  _yours_ ,” he waved at the pile of silk on the floor and she laughed and rolled up his shirtsleeves.

“And why do you need to get dressed?” She demanded, moving over to the sink to grab cleaning supplies before turning round and starting to scrub the countertop.

“Why do I need to... because – well, see I need to be dressed to be able to-”

“You’re not leaving.” She cut him off authoritatively and his words slid to a halt as he stared at her. “We have tea. And biscuits. And wouldn’t you like to try that in a  _bed_ , honey?”

“I should get back to the Ponds though-” He began and she turned on him, aghast.

“Are you  _serious_? After  _that_? You’re just going to go drop in on my parents and think you  _won’t_  be thinking about what you just did to their  _daughter_  on a  _countertop_?” He stared at her, flushing as his gaze dropped down to the newly cleaned countertop in question before sliding down over her frame.

“Well I uh – if I stay it makes no difference, does it? Then I’ll be thinking about what I did to their daughter in the kitchen and in the bedroom-” He waved his hands and she walked toward him, slipping her hands along his waist as she moved in closer, pressing a kiss to his chest.

“-and in the shower and the living room. Oh dining room too. Then there’s my office...”

“ _River_!” He sounded scandalized and she stood on her tip toes, wrapping her arms around his neck as she flicked her tongue across the shell of his ear. He loved that, she knew – as a matter of fact, she had  _lots_ to teach him about what he did and didn’t enjoy. A few she wagered even  _he_  wasn’t aware of.

“Doctor!” She moaned his name close to his ear and his hands gripped her waist, crumpling his shirt as he did so. She pressed soft kisses to his neck, nipping and soothing with her tongue as she went along.

“Oh – ah – River.” His hands slid along her back until her was cupping her backside, pulling her against him tightly. “I could stay for a bit.” He conceded and she laughed, lifting her head and kissing him.

“You  _do_  have a time machine.” She pointed out, and he nodded enthusiastically.

“I do. I won’t be late, will I?” He worried and she shook her head.

“Not as I remember it.”

“Shouldn’t that be spoilers?” He took her hand, and grabbed the package of biscuits before dragging her down the hall toward her bedroom.

“Well maybe, a little bit I suppose. You can’t blame me for slipping in my old age Doctor, dear.” She teased him and he turned to face her at the doorway to her bedroom, stepping in close to her.

“How old are you?”

She reached past him and pushed open the door, pushing in through until his knees hit the edge of her bed and he was forced to sit. She climbed after him, swinging a knee on either side of his hips as she settled down gracefully on top of him. “You expect me to tell you that?”

He huffed, tossed the biscuits on the bed behind them and grabbed her hips with a grin. “What can you tell me?”

“Lots of things if you ask the right questions sweetie.” She smiled down at him, and he groaned as she slid her hips along his lap.

His hands lifted and he began tracing the buttons on his shirt as he bit his lip in thought. “You have two hearts.” His palms flattened over her chest and she smiled.

“Uh-huh.” She confirmed and he looked up at her, his expression curious.

“Were you  _born_  with two hearts?” She bit her lip as she grinned and pushed his shoulders back until he lay down on the bed, with her astride him.

“Doctor...”

“Oh, there’s that face again.”

“It’s my  _normal_ face.” She protested and he grinned, running his hands up her sides.

“I know it is – not your fault I’m so clever.”

“Or so hot?” She arched a brow in his direction and he giggled, shrugging. “You’d have noticed if baby Melody had two hearts anyway, wouldn’t you have?”

“That means you regenerated! Timelords don’t get two hearts until after their first regeneration, River. You can  _regenerate_.” He spoke in an excited tone and she sighed, running her hands over his chest as she nodded.

“Yes, yes – I can regenerate.”

“How many?” He demanded, gripping her hips as she smiled down at him knowingly. “You’re not going to tell me are you?”

“And spoil the surprise?” She laughed and he pouted beneath her.

“You have pictures of all  _my_ faces.” She shifted off of him until she was stretched out beside him, her head tilted back so she could press tiny kisses along his jaw.

“Oh, sweetie, you assume I play  _fair_. That is so generous of you.” She buried her face by his throat and giggled as he rolled over to face her. He kissed her once, quickly.

“It’s fine. Luckily for you I happen to love surprises.”

“That is an absolute  _lie_  and you know it, Doctor.” She laughed at him and he sighed in irritation.

“It’s  _really_  annoying when you don’t believe anything I say.” He pointed out, reaching over her and snatching the biscuit packet before she could react.

“Well stop lying to me constantly and maybe I’ll believe you someday.” She reached for the biscuits but he held them out to his other side with a shake of his head. “Those are  _mine_.”

“Sharing is caring, River Song. Didn’t they teach you that as a child?”

“Yes it was fit in between my sharp shooting and hand-to-hand combat classes. I’d share if you’d asked nicely.” She poked him in the ribs and he laughed, opening the packet and pulling himself up to a sitting position.

“River, if you loved me you’d say yes to this. May I please have a jammie dodger?”

“If you get crumbs in my bed, I’m not letting you back in it for a  _month_.” She sat up as well, reaching over him and taking a biscuit from the packet on his right side. He looked at her in shock and she tilted her head. “What? I happen to  _like_  them, you know. I’d have eaten them last time if you hadn’t woken up before me and been ‘unable to find proper breakfast food’.”

“Well you didn’t have anything!” He waved his arms and she laughed.

“I’d just moved in. And I had eggs. And bread. And milk. There are at least five different things you could have made with that! Fish fingers are  _not_  a breakfast food my love.” He looked at her in shock, a mouthful of biscuits and an argument in his eyes. She laughed, finishing her own biscuit shaking her head. “You’ll be happy to know I have some in the freezer this time.”

“And custard?” He exclaimed in delight at her nod. “I love you, River Song.”

“Prove it. Don’t eat all my biscuits.” He looked bereft for a moment and she laughed. “I’ll just have to keep your mouth full I suppose.” His eyes lit up and she leaned forward, kissing him expertly – he tasted of strawberry jam. Her other hand shoved the packet of biscuits on to the floor and he tore his mouth away from hers.

“I wasn’t finished with-” She reached down for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over her head, tossing it on top of the packet on the floor.

“Yes you were, sweetie.” He stared for a moment, studying her intently for half a second before reaching forward eagerly.

“I absolutely was.”


End file.
